


Blow The Candle Out

by thelilacfield



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-11
Updated: 2014-03-11
Packaged: 2018-01-15 08:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1298818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was an accident. Self defence. He never meant for it to happen, he was only protecting himself. Still, there's no denying that Kurt Hummel has killed a man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blow The Candle Out

Written for the Kurt Big Bang 2013. Art drawn by the wonderful  **magicalplaylist**. Betaed by  **mypatronusisklaine**.

 **Pairing:**  Kurt/Blaine, light Kurt/Adam

 **Warnings:**  violence, murder, angst, infidelity

 

* * *

The mist of the night pressed in at the windows, long wispy claws of grey sneaking against the glass, and Kurt shivered in the silent, empty house, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down his arms as he waited by the microwave for his popcorn, watching the bowl spinning around beneath the small light. His phone buzzed loudly on the countertop, and Kurt picked it up to read the text from his father:  **How's it going there? Did Finn actually keep his promise to stay in?**

Smiling slightly, Kurt lifted his popcorn out of the microwave and shook sugar over it as he texted back:  **No, there's a games night going on at Mike's and he left about an hour ago. He's coming back in the morning. I made him promise not to go to Rachel's.**

Before Burt could text back, Kurt's phone flashed up the warning that it needed to be charged, and Kurt gave a heavy sigh as he plugged it into the charger. Lifting up his popcorn and switching off the kitchen light to save energy, he went to turn on the television and flopped onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other and flipping through the channels, looking for something half-decent to watch.

A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows, making Kurt start and knock the popcorn all over the floor. Rolling his eyes at himself, he bent down to start cleaning up, turning the bowl over and throwing the wasted food into it. A crack sounded through the house, the sound of the door opening, and Kurt froze. "Finn?" he called softly. "Finn? Is that you?"

Silence reigned again, and Kurt let himself breathe in relief, continuing to clean up, eyeing the spreading stains of butter on the floor and getting up to find tissues to clean up. But when he went into the kitchen again, a pair of hands grabbed him around the waist, and he started screaming, pummelling at the person who had grabbed him, a solid wall of a body blocking his path, his phone useless and, seemingly, no one could hear him scream. A hand clamped across his mouth, silencing his shrieks, and Kurt started kicking, shaking and biting at the thick fingers covering his lips, heart beating wildly, almost painfully.

"Calm down," came the hiss through the murky darkness, a familiar voice that sent chills of fear spilling down Kurt's spine, his breath coming out in terrified rasps. The light flickered on, and Kurt was facing Karofsky, shoving his hands away and backing up until he bumped into the counter, eyes wide and chest heaving with every breath he tried to take, trying not to start hyperventilating with fear. "Kurt, I just want to talk," Karofsky insisted, coming closer, and Kurt pressed himself into the counter, shrinking away from those outstretched hands.

"So you break into my house?" he asked, trusting to himself to be able to distract him long enough to call someone. Maybe Finn would come home, or Mercedes had said she might drop by. Maybe it was ten o'clock at night, but he could still have the right luck, a happy coincidence, a delivery person or a neighbour Carole had asked to check on him. "How do you even know where I live?"

"I'm on the football team with Finn," Karofsky pointed out. If Kurt could just keep him talking, he could get to the phone and call the police and get this _lunatic_  forcibly removed from his house. "I was asked over to the night at Mike's, he said everyone would be there, and I drove past and only saw your car so I thought you'd be here alone. We need to talk."

"About what?" Kurt spat furiously. "You need to sort yourself out before you even think about coming near me. You threatened to  _kill_  me." Karofsky looked wounded, and Kurt looked around. They were in a kitchen, he absolutely had to be able to find a weapon somewhere. A rolling pin or a frying pan, something he could knock him out with. He could say it was self defense if anyone asked why he'd done it.

"Kurt..." Karofsky dropped his head into his hands, despairing, as Kurt carefully felt along the counter for something to use as a weapon. "That's not it at all! Look, the thing is...I think I  _like_  you."

"You don't like me!" Kurt shouted, hot tears springing into his eyes. "When you like someone, you don't do this to them! You don't bully them until they consider transferring schools to get away from it all, you don't break into their house when they're alone to tell them that, you don't sexually assault them!"

Karofsky lurched towards him, and Kurt pressed himself backwards against the counter, eyes wide, a scream building in his throat. But then, Karofsky kissed him, mouth hard and wet against his, and Kurt couldn't scream, those strong hands squeezing his shoulders to keep him still, and the moment his fingers found something solid he slammed it into Karofsky's side, pushing him away and gasping for air, rubbing at his shoulders where Karofsky's grip had been too tight, so tight he was sure he'd have bruises. Shaking, heart still pumping adrenaline and fear hot and cold through his veins, Kurt looked down at Karofsky, lying on the floor.

With a knife in his side and a stain of blood spreading across the tiles, eyes glassy and gazing up at the ceiling, staring without seeing. Letting out a horrified scream, Kurt staggered away from the dead body lying on his kitchen floor, bile rising in his throat.  _I killed him._

Running out of the room, Kurt shoved the door to the bathroom open and threw up, shaking like a leaf, eyes streaming with tears and cheeks netted with red. Kneeling on the cold floor, fingers digging into his own thighs to remind himself he was real, this was real, it was happening, Kurt realised he had to do something. He couldn't leave a dead body lying on his kitchen floor, he had to do something, get rid of it somehow.

Dragging the body along, looking at all the dark windows and hoping no one would look, Kurt eventually managed to get him into the tiny clearing at the end of the street. The restless, shifting pond water glistened in the moonlight, and Kurt didn't hesitate for a second before he shoved the body into the pond, hoping no one would find it until after he was long gone.

Kurt mopped up the blood on the floor and burned the evidence, tossing the ashes into the garbage and washing his hands thoroughly, cleaning off the knife and leaving it to dry. He lay awake that night, every nerve straining for the sound of police sirens, for someone at the door, imagining a life in prison. But the dawn came without any trouble, and Finn came home from Mike's bearing cold pizza and stories to tell, not noticing how Kurt shook or how pale he was as he picked at his food, barely eating anything, stomach churning.

The notice for the missing person went out that night, and the body was discovered in the pond the next day. Karofsky's parents could be seen on the news bewailing the loss, calling to find the person who had killed their child. But the authorities couldn't find any evidence, and within the month the trail had done cold. A solemn memorial was held at school, and though he was surrounded by black-clothed, weeping mourners, Kurt felt the thrill of getting away with murder, no matter how horrifying it was.

And then, at last, it struck him - his biggest bully, the ringleader of those who tortured him and made him feel awful, was dead.

He was free.

* * *

High school seemed like a dream after Karofsky fell prey to a simple kitchen knife. The football team stopped bullying Kurt, for the most part. Name calling continued - no one was ever safe from the venom of other people's mouths, after all - but the locker checks, daily slushies and dumpster tosses finally stopped. Edging out of the shell he'd locked himself into, Kurt had his first competition solo at that year's Sectionals, standing in the spotlight singing  _Being Alive_  with all eyes on him, his parents proud in the audience and his friends hovering in the wings, all smiling smugly, knowing they would win.

It was after all three groups had performed, when Puck had already opened their box of sparkling cider and started celebrating their inevitable victory, when a knock came on the door of their dressing room. When Blaine walked in, head down but uniform obvious, he was greeted by a swell of shouting for him to leave and stop spying on them. "For God's sake, we've already performed," Kurt snapped at them, and they all rolled their eyes at him and returned to their time-wasting.

Slipping outside, Kurt smiled at Blaine, and Blaine looked down at his feet and took in a deep breath before he said, "I came to tell you how amazing you were up there. I mean, Kurt, you were born for the spotlight. You looked fantastic, and your voice is incredible. I never imagined it being that wonderful. I just feel so lucky to have had the honour of witnessing something that powerful." Letting his gaze flicker obviously down to Blaine's lips, Kurt took a step into his space and kissed him.

When Blaine's hands came up to frame his face and he kissed back, Kurt knew he'd been right to go with his instincts and move in for a kiss. As they broke apart, a soft smile on Blaine's lips, Kurt asked, "Can I make up for being so forward and take you out to dinner after this is over?" Grinning, Blaine nodded, and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist to pull him close and kiss him again.

They won Sectionals, then Regionals, but placed last at Nationals thanks to an unprofessional stage kiss. But, with a boyfriend he was madly in love with and plans for colleges in New York on the horizon, Kurt simply didn't care about show choir competitions any more. Summer was spent as his last before graduation, lying out in his friends' gardens and swimming, the starlit nights crowded around bonfires and huddled together beneath a series of blankets. He didn't regret a minute of it, even when the first time he and Blaine went further than making out ended with a splinter in his thigh from a rough treehouse floor, and their first time going all the way happened on the corner of Blaine's street in the back of Kurt's car. It was a summer to remember, and he wanted it to last forever.

But then senior year came, and in the flurry of running for senior class president, winning the election, his leading role in the school musical and college applications, his relationship was bumped down a list of priorities. But they pushed on, and made it through the year with a stronger bond for those dark days when both of them considered ending it, and Kurt spent the summer after his heartbreaking rejection from NYADA showering Blaine with affection, assuring him he wasn't going to leave.

Come September, Kurt spent his days wiping down the Lima Bean counters and dealing with irritating customers, bored of life in Ohio. And Blaine noticed, and pushed him to go to New York. Saying goodbye to Blaine and his father at the airport, Kurt went to New York, found a small apartment with Rachel and started looking for work, laying down the foundations of a life Blaine would join soon enough.

* * *

Kurt had always told himself that dreams weren't easy, that he would have to pay his dues and perhaps suffer through months of being constantly short of money and not having the luxuries he was used to before he made it. But he'd never planned to be in New York with nothing but Rachel and the loft to hold him up, turning to his parents for rent and living off the cheapest food he could find. But there were no jobs open for him, and auditions were difficult to get to and even more difficult to get through without being discouraged by the look on every person's face which made it clear that they'd already decided against him.

It was with a heavy heart that Kurt wandered the Manhattan streets late at night, refusing to go home despite all Rachel's pleas. Every shop window yielded disappointment when he found no cards advertising jobs, not even cleaning or babysitting, just something to help him make the rent. He couldn't audition for NYADA again like he planned, not in the financial situation he was trapped in.

Luck must've been on his side, then, the day he wandered through revolving glass doors into another generic building to see a small  _EMPLOYEES WANTED, INQUIRE WITHIN_  card slotted into the edge of the noticeboard. Pulling the strap of his satchel over his shoulder, he rapped his knuckles smartly against the reception desk and waited for the man to look up before he asked, "Which office do I go to to ask about that card?"

It could have been his imagination, but the man looked almost afraid as he reached beneath the desk and slapped a small silver key onto the counter, withdrawing his hand as quickly as if he'd been burned. "There's a keyhole in the third elevator," he said, appearing to quake where he stood. "If you put that key in and turn it twice, it'll take you to where you want to go. Just be careful, sir."

Taking the key and mulling over the man's words, wondering why he seemed so frightened, Kurt went to the elevator he'd indicated and slotted the key into the groove waiting for it, turning twice. Every button on the panel lit up bright, and the numbers of the screen crashed together into a mass of pulsating red. Kurt had to grab the bar stretching beneath the mirror for support when the elevator jerked violently, dropping quickly, quicker than he felt a normal elevator would.

When it stopped, there was no pleasant voice informing him what floor he was on. Instead, the doors opened and he stepped out into a long corridor, lit by strip lights and painted all white, eerily shadowed. But it seemed to be a normal office, and Kurt shook off the sense of foreboding, walking calmly and confidently to the small desk where a bored-looking woman sat, flipping through a series of papers on a clipboard. Clearing his throat, he said, "Excuse me? I'm here about the card upstairs advertising a job opportunity."

"The boss will see you in her office," the woman said, and pressed a button beneath her desk. A door to Kurt's right hissed open and the light over the top of it lit up, indicating he should go in. "Good luck. You don't look like the usual sort to come in here."

Walking through the door, trying not to worry too much about the way people were reacting to him, wondering what kind of place this was anyway, Kurt followed the corridor around a sharp bend that took him into a brightly-lit room. The woman behind the desk fixed him with a steely, calculating gaze, and gesture silently for him to sit down. "I'm Eleanor Whyte, but you will refer to me only as the boss," she said, looking across the table at him. "Now, tell me: why do you want to become part of our professional ring? You don't look the part."

A thousand possibilities flashed across Kurt's mind, prostitutes being among the highest, but instead he kept his voice carefully steady and politely said, "My name is Kurt Hummel, I saw your advertisement in the lobby. I'm here because I need work, and I don't really care what you're asking of me. What is the job you're offering?"

The boss turning her computer screen towards her and typed for a few seconds, Kurt fidgeting and resisting the urge to tug at his collar, cold sweat breaking out on the back of his neck, until finally she turned back to him and said, "You understand, Mr. Hummel, that you would be put into intensive training should you be chosen for this job. You will have to work in the offices for a time before we put you into the field. And you must complete a test before we even consider you ruthless enough to be an assassin for hire."

Vision swimming, Kurt felt his chest constrict, his memory consumed with terror, the memory of that night tightening its cold grip on his body. So much blood, pouring out across the tiles, the tears in his eyes, the panic and the horror, the taste of bile in his mouth as he realised that he had taken the power he had to kill and used it. But then, the rush, that crazed adrenaline that made him feel alive, capable of anything, the way the power lay with him and only him, he could control any situation with a knife in his hand and a split-second decision. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, hearing the words slip from his lips as if he was underwater, far away from any of this.

"With a simple search, I can learn everything about you," she said, turning the screen towards Kurt to illustrate just this. "I see you're not a student and unemployed, obviously came here with nothing waiting. In a relationship, three family members, and wide net of friends to choose from. Tell me, Kurt, do you ever feel  _resentful_  of anyone in your life? Just tell me, I'm not here to judge you."

"Rachel." It slipped from his lips before he could stop himself, and he clapped a hand to his mouth in horror. Then it all came tumbling out between his cracked fingers, like water slipping through cupped hands no matter how hard he tried to stop it from trickling away. "The way she got into our dream school and came to our dream city without me, how easy her life is and the way she just breezes through taking it for granted, not even noticing the way opportunities just get thrown at her the way they never are for me. I'm just...I'm jealous. Maybe if she hadn't auditioned too, I would've gotten into NYADA."

Eleanor reached across the desk, touching his wrist sympathetically and said, "So much could've worked out for you if she wasn't in the picture, I'm sure. It still could." Then the gentle voice and soft sympathy is gone, replaced by steel, and she said, "Kill Rachel and I will offer you a job here."

"I can't kill her!" Kurt protested loudly. "She's like my sister, I love her, I'm not that ruthless. Can't you just send me out with some of your workers, you'll see what I can do, I've killed before!" At the look she gave him, he hastily said, "It was in self-defence, I never meant to really kill him."

"Mr. Hummel, if you can't kill your friend who you're jealous of, how can I expect you to be the kind of person who won't back out when I start sending you on solo assignments?" Eleanor asked silkily. "I need to know you won't be able to back out, and I've found that the best way to do that is to have you under my power. Everyone in these offices killed someone they were close to, and only I and they know exactly who it was. I could tell the police at any time, do you understand me? I could tell them that you came here, tell them that you admitted to killing someone and show them tapes, let them hear recordings. You would be imprisoned." Her eyes were the coldest Kurt had ever seen as she leaned closer, her voice dark and terrifying as she said, "The moment you took that key upstairs, you were under my power. Do you understand, Mr. Hummel? If you won't kill her, I have no problem with ensuring you won't be able to tell people what happens in the underbelly of this building."

The gleam in her eyes told Kurt she wasn't talking about sending him to prison, and he clutched his hands in his lap as he looked around the room, shaking and trying to keep his breathing steady. Focus on the rise and fall of his chest, in and out, as he considered the value of a life. Could he really be so ruthless? Kill his own best friend? If he didn't, it was his life that hung in the balance.

"I'll do it." Eleanor smiled, that soft sympathetic woman returning, and shook his hand gracefully before sending him out. Walking out of the offices, Kurt felt leaden with despair, knowing what he had to do and how he could do it.

It was so simple, really. That was what made it so awful. To celebrate Rachel surviving a month of college, they went out to dinner together, and she smiled at him across the table, reaching across to take his hand. "You know, despite how hard this has been, I'm really glad I have you by my side for all of this," she said, and everything within Kurt crawled with guilt.

After he'd paid, Rachel slid her arm trustingly through his and they walked through the dark streets, taking every shortcut Kurt could think of, the dull sounds of their footsteps in the empty alleyways like a countdown. Every step closer to home increased the likelihood that he might lose his life.

Finally, he stopped in an alleyway close to home, letting Rachel go on ahead with he fumbled with the knife he'd tucked into an inside pocket of his coat, pulling it out and holding it close to his side, disguised by the night and the shadows sprawling across the walls. "Rachel?" he called, and she turned around, her eyes bright. "You know I love you, right?" She nodded, smiling sweetly. "And I would never want to hurt you. I would never do it intentionally. Not unless someone else was forcing me to."

"Honey, you're scaring me," she said, stepping closer until they met in the middle of the alleyway, where the darkness was the most cloying, trapping them in the blackness. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

Drawing her closer with one hand, Kurt looked straight into her eyes as he murmured, "I am so, so sorry, Rachel. Please forgive me. I don't have a choice." And he brought the knife up into her stomach, watching the agony crease her face, that betrayal in her eyes as she crumpled, and he stumbled away from her body, throwing up into the alleyway, coughing and sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks. Snatching the blade from her body, he let it rattle to the ground as he dropped to his knees next to her, and cradled her body close, getting himself covered in her blood, sobbing, "I'm so sorry," over and over again.

The call came the next morning, after he'd spent the night pacing the floor, crying and gulping back bile, and he wasn't acting when he burst into tears the moment the police officer said the words, "She's dead." He burned his clothes, getting rid of all the evidence, and finally returned to the building, to the offices Eleanor reigned calmly over, and gave control of his mind and his hands to her.

* * *

Life in New York without Rachel felt hollow, a wrong note in a song, jarring. They'd always planned to flee the boundaries of Ohio together, escape the chains of high school and find untold success while supporting each other. And now she was dead, a bright star snuffed out by Kurt's own hand, and he couldn't see the way his life was going without her next to him.

Sitting alone in the apartment, finishing the stack of paperwork he'd been given to work on, Kurt jumped up when he heard a knock on the door, leaping up to find Blaine standing outside, offering him a bouquet of roses. Throwing his arms around his boyfriend, Kurt grinned into the crook of his neck, murmuring. "I'm so glad you're here."

"I wanted to surprise you, after everything that's happened," Blaine said softly, holding Kurt closer and kissing him softly. "You must be so lonely here, honey. I can only stay for tonight, though...if you want me to."

"Why wouldn't I want you to stay?" Kurt asked, grinning at Blaine and reeling him in for a kiss. It could've been his imagination, but Blaine's response felt lacklustre, as if he was holding himself back in some way, and when he broke the kiss he gave Kurt a tight smile, as if he was forcing himself to be happy. "Sweetheart, are you okay? You don't seem yourself." Blaine gave him a slight smile and went into Kurt's room to leave his overnight bag.

Even during dinner, there was something wrong with Blaine. The way he held himself, hunched over like he was guarding himself, and all his obvious attempts to avoid eye contact and his monotone answers to Kurt's increasingly desperate questions. It had been so long since they'd really had a chance to sit down and talk, with Kurt being so busy tangled up in his own feelings and all the paperwork he was forced to do, and now Blaine was so quiet and seemingly sad. Reaching for his hand, Kurt whispered, "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Mm, I love you too," Blaine replied softly, and Kurt smiled at him and squeezed his hand as he leaned in to kiss him, soft and sweet, just another happy couple showing their love for the whole world to see.

But they weren't happy, and Kurt knew it when they left and Blaine wandered away from him, not holding his hand but drifting along the sidewalk, looking down at his feet, scuffing them along the ground. "Blaine, something's wrong," he finally said. "What's wrong with you? Please tell me, I'm worried about you."

Blaine stopped, turning slowly to face Kurt, and said, "I was with someone." Eyes glistening with tears in the light of the city, he searched Kurt's face for any sign, as Kurt felt his heart break, the tears pressing at his throat, constricting. "I was lonely and I missed you and it didn't mean anything, I swear, I love you and I am so, so sorry."

Turning away from him, from the boy he loved and the man who broke his heart, his life in Lima slipping away right in front of him, trailing into the blackness no matter how hard he tried to cling on to his childhood, Kurt murmured, "I don't want you staying tonight. Come back, get your things, and go."

"Kurt, I'm-"

" _Don't_." Walking away, determined not to let Blaine see him cry, Kurt ran back to his apartment, tears filling his eyes and turning his surroundings into a shimmering kaleidoscope, and left Blaine's belongings in a pile on the couch. Only when he heard the door open, the sound of footsteps and the door closing again did he break down and cry, sitting on the end of his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest, sobbing for everything he'd lost, for the life he'd once led that was now in shards around him.

When Kurt slept that night, he saw Blaine standing before him in the darkness of Manhattan, eyes glistening with tears as he confessed to giving into temptation. A flash of steel in Kurt's hand, fingers wrapping around the handle of a familiar knife, a weapon he'd used to take a life twice before, and Blaine's screams of agony rolling through the cold air, scarlet waterfalls of blood gleaming in the moonlight as his body crumpled, eyes gazing unseeingly up at the stars, Kurt's knife dirtied by his blood.

Kurt awoke screaming, cold sweat clinging to his skin and bed sheets tangled around his legs. Trembling, he rolled onto his side to stare at the pictures of Blaine on his nightstand, colours murky in the dusk. With a shaking hand, he knocked the pictures onto their fronts to hide the face he never wanted to see contorted in agony, stiffening in death.

* * *

Sitting at his desk sorting through piles of paperwork, occasionally sliding his hand into his pocket to feel for his phone, hoping someone might ask him to be their date for the wedding, any of his old friends who he'd barely spoken to since moving to New York, Kurt started when someone clamped their hands over his eyes and a familiar sing-song voice said, "Guess who's just been handed his first field assassination?" Pulling Adam's hands down, Kurt smiled as his boyfriend leaned down to kiss his upside-down lips and said, "I'm so proud of you, baby."

"Wait, did they give me this week's assassination?" Kurt asked, hand closing around his phone. "I told the boss I couldn't do it this week. I have to go home for a wedding."

"Babe, are you really going to run out on your first assignment to go to a wedding with your high school friends?" Adam asked, leaning on Kurt's desk and giving him a look. It was clear that he didn't understand Kurt's sudden, raging need to feel like a child again, to be back in his hometown with his old friends and just let the dizzying joy of seeing them all again sweep aside all that was wrong with his new life. And, behind all the humouring understanding, there was a suspicion. Adam still didn't trust him. "Everyone will be relying on you to use your personal skills to dispatch this one quickly and quietly. You can't leave."

"I can and I will, I told the boss that I needed to go home for a few days weeks ago," Kurt snapped, and pushed Adam away. "You know I'm leaving in the morning, Adam. You told me you didn't want to come because of work, but I put my family over my career." Shaking his head, rolling his eyes patronisingly, Adam smiled at Kurt and took his face between his hands to kiss him.

The way Adam smiled, the way he held Kurt, it felt like he could be the one to take the pieces of Kurt's heart, still broken after Blaine despite their renewal of their friendship, and put them back together. Yet he felt wrong in some indefinable way, and there was some small part of Kurt's mind that knew it was because of his lingering feelings for Blaine. He hoped that seeing Blaine again would help him to move on.

* * *

Opening the door of the car, Blaine held out his arm for Kurt to take, smiling when Kurt automatically reached out to straighten his tie. "You look amazing," he murmured, and Kurt grinned and ducked his head bashfully.

"You don't look so bad yourself," he teased back, and Blaine grinned at him. For a moment, it seemed as if Blaine might lean in and kiss him, and Kurt was prepared for it, he wanted it. But then the door on the other side of the car slammed shut, and the moment was gone as Tina came round to take Blaine's hand, fussing with his hair and grinning at them both.

"Isn't this exciting?" she asked brightly. "I mean, it's been years and years just waiting for this day, and now it's finally here." Turning to Kurt, a flash of something like contempt crossing her face, she said, "I mean, you remember when Mr. Schue was married to that  _awful_  woman, and now he's marrying someone so much better for him. They really fit together."

Nodding politely, Kurt walked behind the two seniors up to the church, noticing the way Tina's hand clamped around Blaine's elbow, holding him tightly lest he try to escape. There was something going on with her, the lovesick way she glanced up at Blaine, seeking any excuse to touch him, laughing a little too loudly at the least funny things, that Kurt recognised. Blaine obviously had no idea that Tina was so infatuated with him, occasionally turning to look back over his shoulder and giving Kurt a little secretive smile, eyelashes lowered and gaze seductive. It was like a web, a web Kurt could feel himself being dragged into. And yet, despite Adam and the way he and Blaine had ended, he was only too willing to allow himself to be dragged in.

It was the same the whole day, watching the couple exchange their vows and promise themselves to each other. Though he was sitting on the other side of the church from Blaine, next to Puck and Quinn, Kurt kept glancing over at Blaine as Will recited, "You are the woman for me, and I am going to love you for the rest of my days." Blaine was always looking back, always there with that same smile and the same transparent joy in his eyes, gazing at Kurt like he was the only person in the room. Love was still there, and even though Kurt didn't always want to admit it, it was the same for him. He loved Blaine, loved him to distraction, and his relationship with Adam was just an excuse, a reason to ignore the constant prodding of his heart, guiding him back towards Blaine. But God, the way Blaine stared at him, so young and earnest and sweet, it felt like a echo of a different time, and Kurt wanted so badly to cling to that.

The moment they got into the reception, Kurt was snatching his fake ID out of his wallet and showing it to the bartender, gulping back a glass of something strong without even tasting it, wiping his mouth and turning to look at the proceedings. Everyone looked so happy, carefree, dancing in strange combinations and laughing together. Waltzing over to stand beside him, Santana snatched up a glass of champagne and observed, "I've never seen anyone chug alcohol so fast. What's the matter, Hummel? Is it perhaps that, despite the new boyfriend you seem to be constantly taking the most awkward couple-y selfies I've ever seen with, you're still madly in love with Anderson?"

"No," Kurt snapped derisively. "I'm not still in love with him! I have a boyfriend now, I have my life in New York, I am perfectly capable of functioning without Blaine. I don't need to keep myself tied down to a high school boyfriend, particularly not one so oblivious he has no idea his shiny new best friend wants to have his babies."

"I think I detect a little jealousy," Santana observed. "Did you seriously not know about Tina's massive crush? That's old news, Kurt, now it's all about Puck dating his brother's ex-girlfriend and taking her to Sadie Hawkins. Don't you keep up with the latest gossip?"

Taking another glass and swallowing it down, gagging when the alcohol hit the back of his throat, Kurt said, "I get out of touch, living alone and so far away from everybody. Not that I care about Tina liking Blaine. But she should know he's gay, after that fiasco with-" His throat closed up at the idea of saying Rachel's name, her death so fresh and painful, a wound just beginning to heal that ripped open again so easily, and Santana patted his arm consolingly.

"I miss her too," she said quietly, and then shook off the sadness and smiled at him. "But this is a party with an open bar, so after a couple more drinks the two of us are going to get out on that dance floor and make our exes want to hit that, how does that sound?" Smirking darkly at her, Kurt clinked his glass against hers in a toast and watched Blaine across the room, leaning casually on the wall and staring straight back at him.

Getting on the dance floor in time for the fast, fun dances, Kurt found himself enjoying the night in a way he thought he wouldn't be able to. Changing partners after every chorus, he found himself talking to most people there, no one really caring who they were dancing with, happy to be together again after so long. It was like being in high school again, a time he had found himself longing for after the difficulty of the last few months in New York, and everyone was so pleased to see him. Every time Blaine whirled past with someone, he smiled at Kurt, and Kurt kept telling himself to just ask him to dance, ask if he wanted to take the microphone waiting on the stage and sing something together, knowing he would say yes, suspecting it would lead to more.

But then Tina crossed the dance floor, away from Artie, and stood in front of Kurt with her arms folded, glaring at him. "Do you want to dance?" he asked politely, offering her his hand. "Or we could sit and get a drink. It's been such a long time since I've seen you, Tina."

"I don't like the way you treat Blaine," she said immediately, her tone scolding, as if he was a small child needing to be reprimanded. "There, I said it. You just go back and forth between here and New York and you leave him here, waiting like a dog for its master. That's not a healthy relationship, Kurt! He needs someone who's always here, someone who'll support him and comfort him and treat him like he deserves."

"And I suppose you're that person?" Kurt asked, and Tina shifted on her feet, glancing around like she feared someone overhearing them. "Blaine's gay, Tina. You're just a hag in love with him who can't acknowledge the fact that he is still in love with me."

"If you know he's still in love with you, why won't you just take him back?" Tina snapped angrily. "He loves you, he cries over you, he feels things for you that he doesn't feel for anyone else, and you repay those years of unconditional love by finding someone else almost as soon as you break up. How long did you have that guy lined up for, Kurt? We're all human, Kurt, we all deserve to be loved back! And you just let Blaine hope, smiling at him like that, but we all know that come tonight you'll just go have phone sex with your boyfriend and leave Blaine waiting down here to hope that you might grant him a few minutes of attention."

"And you'll be the one to comfort him, of course," Kurt observed sarcastically. "Take him in your arms and get him drinks and take advantage of him to sneak a little kiss, right? And then he'll reject you and you'll go nuts and blame it on me. You're obsessed and it's creepy and it has to stop!"

"Blaine needs consistency, not someone flying back and forth all the time who'll dump him when someone better comes around!" Tina was yelling now, people were looking at them, but Kurt couldn't bring himself to care, needing to show her that he was right and she was wrong, to tell her that he still loved Blaine but didn't know what to do with his new relationship and his new life, but he knew that Blaine was part of the future he wanted to see, but he wasn't so sure he'd get to see that future. "Yes, he cheated, and yes, it was awful, but he did that when he felt like you didn't love him. I have been here for him this whole time, comforting him and taking him to Sadie Hawkins-"

"He didn't want to go to Sadie Hawkins!" Kurt shouted back at her. "If you were really his friend, you would know that!"

"I took care of him when he was sick, I took him home and put him to bed and rubbed the medicine into his chest while he slept!" Only then did Tina slap a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. "I mean...I didn't-"

"You did what to him?!" Kurt shrieked, following her off the dance floor. "Tina, get back here!" But she ran, impressively fast, and disappeared upstairs. Seething, Kurt went back to the bar, took two glasses of champagne and crossed the room to where Blaine was dancing with Quinn, the two of them talking in low voices. "Mind if I cut in?" Kurt asked smoothly, sliding between them and offering Blaine the glass. He grinned, and Quinn waved them off with a sunny smile, winking at Kurt when Blaine turned away.

Sitting on the sidelines with Blaine, sipping his champagne, Kurt smiled lazily at him over the rim of the glass and pressed his foot against Blaine's ankle, the atmosphere and the alcohol making him reckless and hungry for someone, for Blaine. "Kurt, I know there's a new guy in your life," Blaine said quietly. "And I just want to tell you that I am completely supportive of anything that happens. I don't expect you to be alone now we've broken up. There isn't just one person for anybody, and if it works out for you and him I will be your friend. I'm not going to push you to get back together with me, ever. I know forgiving me is difficult."

Sliding his foot up Blaine's leg, watching the motion of his throat as he swallowed and looked up at Kurt from under his lashes, Kurt leaned forward to whisper, "I've missed you, you know. So many nights I thought about picking the phone up and calling you, asking you if you wanted to...mess around. I've missed your body, the way you move, the way you sound, how we fit together."

In the end, it was Blaine who broke the tension first, snapping the taut string stretching between them by leaning in to capture Kurt's lips in a kiss, licking the taste of champagne out of his mouth, taking a fistful of Kurt's shirt and tugging him closer. Kurt's hand curled around Blaine's neck, fingers twining into his hair, pulling him in to deepen the kiss, hungry and desperate, obviously asking for more. And then Blaine broke the kiss, pulled away with his eyes dazed and cheeks red and pupils blown, and he murmured, "Do you want to go upstairs?"

Taking his hand with a grin, Kurt snatched a bottle of champagne from the bar and the two of them retired to a bedroom, laughing and taking sips straight from the bottle. With a deliberate smirk, Kurt spilt his glass down Blaine's shirt, and watched the stain spread out and turn the material see-through, staring at the lines of Blaine's body, his nipples hard and straining against the thin fabric. "C'mere," he growled, and pushed Blaine back against the door, letting his blazer slide to the floor and kicking it aside, kissing Blaine until he forgot how to breathe, until everything was the taste of champagne and Blaine's deliciously familiar scent and the feel of his body, his hands moving down Kurt's back, nails catching along his shirt.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked, the tail end of his sentence going up in a groan as Kurt kissed along his jaw to the spot beneath his ear that drove him crazy. His grip tightened on Kurt's waist, body jerking into his and pressing an obvious erection into Kurt's thigh. Biting at his earlobe just to hear him gasp and moan, Kurt pulled back with a hungry smirk on his face, and pressed Blaine back into the door harder, their mouths level and close enough to feel each other's breath.

"I've never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now," he murmured, and tore Blaine's shirt open, pushing the sodden fabric off him and lifting him into his arms, moaning at all the old memories Blaines strong thighs wrapping around his waist brought back, and staggering across the room holding him up, letting him tumble down onto the bed. Hair already wild from Kurt's hands running through it, chest bare and pants tented, Blaine lay on the bed looking at him with blatant lust in his eyes, propped up on his elbows and watching Kurt slowly undress himself, eyes hungry and tongue wetting his kiss-swollen lips.

Knowing his audience, revelling in being with Blaine again, the power he had over him, Kurt took his time, undressing himself with swings of his hips and dark-eyed glances thrown at his ex-boyfriend. When he was down to just his underwear, and Blaine seemed to be only just resisting the urge to reach out and touch, Kurt crawled onto the bed, pinning Blaine's arms above his head, and murmured, "What we need is in my bag in the bathroom, go and get it."

Blaine practically dived off the bed in his haste to move, granting Kurt the sinfully delicious view of his ass as he walked away. Laying himself out on the bed like some tempting offering, Kurt stripped off his underwear and waited for Blaine to return, thrilling at the way his jaw dropped and his eyes went wide when he saw Kurt. "Happy Valentine's Day, baby. This year, you get to fuck me."

Almost tripping over himself to get undressed, Blaine stumbled over to the bed and fell on top of Kurt, his body warm and familiar and stunning, undulating on top of Kurt's as they kissed, hands in hair and gripping arms, breath coming out in ragged gasps. Reaching for the bottle of champagne on the nightstand, Kurt smirked as he splashed some onto his chest. Grinning, Blaine slid down his body to lick it off with long, lush strokes of his talented tongue, Kurt writhing recklessly on the sheets, Blaine's hands and mouth a gift after long months without him. "Amazing," he gasped out, and Blaine grinned up at him, chin pillowed on his stomach. "God, Blaine, you are amazing. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you," Blaine said, voice low and scratchy, and moved up to lie next to Kurt, arm thrown over his waist, looking into his eyes like he was slowly taking Kurt apart from the inside out, making him feel like he was falling in love all over again. "And I don't just mean the sex."

"Me neither." Kurt's reward for saying that, for admitting to his lingering feelings for Blaine, his heart ruling over his head as they lay in bed together, was Blaine kissing him, sweet and slow, rolling on top of him, holding him down, making him feel wanted and loved and safe. In this bed, with this man, nothing could get him. Not Adam, not his boss, not guilt or rage or misery, nothing but love and want and warmth.

When Blaine slid inside him, kissing his shoulders and rocking in minute increments, slow and steady and undeniably loving, it felt like forgiveness, like affirmation, like Kurt's whole life was changing and becoming that life he missed so much. It was steps back, yet steps forward, moving towards reconciliation, towards the reunion Kurt couldn't deny he wanted. Not with Blaine inside him again, kissing him, not the way tears sprang to his eyes when Blaine leaned down to whisper, "I love you," in his ear.

Could he admit to still loving Blaine? He didn't love Adam, he knew that. It felt like a mutual attraction between them, to both physical and personal qualities, but not the way loving Blaine had felt, still felt. It didn't feel like Adam had the power to destroy him, he would never allow Adam to hold his whole heart, it was just an infatuation. Not the way he would've allowed Blaine to break him and build him, to put him back together, to see him at his worst and at his best, secure in the knowledge that he would love him just the same. Adam was sweet and gentle and kind, but he wasn't Blaine. "I love you too," Kurt whispered back, taking Blaine's face between his hands and looking into his eyes, wanting him to know the absolute truth. "I still love you, Blaine. But I don't want...I can't-"

"It's okay." And Blaine was smiling reassuringly, pressing a soft kiss to Kurt's quivering lower lip. "Don't cry. As long as we love each other, it doesn't matter. I don't want to put pressure on you. I just want to know." He began to move, his sweat-slick skin sticking against Kurt's, his hair messy and his eyes squeezed shut, his face all pleasure, and every thrust felt like another promise unbroken, another admission of  _I love you I love you_  spoken in vulnerability, and Kurt felt home, in love and loved and beautiful and content, want upon want piling on his chest.

He came within ten minutes, spilling onto his own belly with Blaine's hand around him and Blaine's lips on his, and closed his eyes, clinging to the high and the pleasure and the way he felt so loved with Blaine's hands on him. When Blaine finished with Kurt's name on his lips, and rolled over to lie next to him, out of breath and sweaty and gazing at him with soft, loving eyes, Kurt leaned in first to kiss him, stroking a hand through his hair. "I love you," he whispered, and Blaine smiled at him, stroking his chest slowly, drawing abstract shapes into his skin.

"I love you too," Blaine whispered, a gentle promise, and stroked a hand gently through Kurt's hair. "But what about your boyfriend, Kurt? What are you going to tell him?"

"The truth," Kurt promised. "That I like him well enough and we've had fun, but I can't really be with him as long as I'm still in love with you. This is going to work out, Blaine. It's going to be amazing and wonderful and everything we've ever wanted." He shuffled as close as he could get, lowering his mouth to Blaine's ear, and breathed, "I forgive you."

Another ten minutes of just lying there, exchanging soft kisses, Blaine's eyes bright with happiness as his hands moved delicately over Kurt's skin, as if making sure he was real, that this was happening, and Kurt finally heaved himself off the comfortable mattress, away from the warmth of Blaine's body, smiling affectionately at his pathetic complaining whine. "I won't be long, baby, I just want to go downstairs for another bottle," he promised, and leaned over to kiss Blaine thoroughly. "We have to celebrate."

He felt Blaine's eyes on him as he dressed again, just his white T-shirt and pants, padding out of the room in his bare feet to slip back downstairs, feeling a thrill of something like pride, knowing everyone would be staring at him with his wild hair and flushed cheeks, the shadow of a hickey peeking out above his collar. Everyone would know what they'd been doing, everyone would crowd around to ask him questions, and he could be among friends, secure in the knowledge that Blaine was what he wanted, all he wanted, and that no one would turn their nose up at him for sleeping with him.

However, he was proved wrong almost immediately when he jumped down the last few steps of the sweeping staircase down into the hotel foyer, feeling light on happiness and sex, and found Tina waiting for him, her eyes narrowed with a glare, her arms folded over her chest. "So, you're just doing exactly what Blaine did to you to your new boyfriend?" she asked. "Why can't you just be a good person for once, Kurt?! Can't you ever just break up with one guy and let the dust settle before you move onto another? Just move back here and take Blaine back and stop dangling the prospect of a reunion in front of him like a piece of string! What are you even doing in New York that's more important than a boy who loves you more than anything?"

"Let's just say I have a career that demands a lot of my attention and leave it at that," Kurt snapped, snatching another bottle of champagne up from the woman working the reception, smoothly flashing her his fake ID. "Stay out of this, Tina. It's none of your business. What goes on between Blaine and I matters to us, not to you. Blaine doesn't need you protecting him from me."

"Oh, I think he does," Tina said, lifting an eyebrow at Kurt and running her eyes down over him, the way his shirt was untucked and his hair wild from Blaine's fingers curling into it, the red marks of Blaine's teeth and lips scattered across his bared neck. "You're just using him for sex, we all know it. Tomorrow you'll get back on that plane and go back to New York and forget about him. All you do is push him down onto the bed, have your way with him and then let him fall without being around to catch him."

"Don't presume for a second that you know anything about what happened upstairs." Clutching the bottle like a weapon, rage bubbling up inside him, curling and twisting sinuously as a snake, turning him into a person he didn't recognise, Kurt stared Tina straight down with a gaze that seemed as if it could burn as he said, "I am still in love with Blaine, despite the fact that he broke my heart, what does that tell you? He is worth every second of crying to me, and we're going to get back together as soon as I sort out the mess waiting for me in New York with my new boyfriend. And I think you should know that he had his way with me, because I let him in. I trust him. You need to back off, he doesn't want your attention."

As he turned away, walking back up the stairs, back to the room where Blaine was waiting in the tangle of sheets, eyes dark and lashes lowered and mouth swollen and wet, Tina called out, "I know you're going to break his heart again. And I'll be standing right there to catch him and mop him up and help him through it. You'll never know how it feels for him, to have someone like me."

"I had someone like you." His voice had gone so much softer, sad and vulnerable, and he hated feeling like that. He wanted to be strong and bold and to tell Tina exactly where she could take her arguments against him. Not some broken man who'd lost everything in a matter of months, whose life was twisted and melted and collapsing around him. "Rachel was my best friend, Tina, and she's dead. Don't think for a minute that I don't know how it feels to have a friend like you. Better, because she wasn't a manipulative bitch determined to sink her claws into me even though she knew full well that I'm gay." And finally, he stepped up to her, eyes going dark and stormy, and his voice was hard and dangerous as he murmured, "I could do things to you that you can't even imagine. And after knowing what you've been doing to Blaine while wearing the mask of the sweet, caring best friend, I just might."

"You wouldn't dare." They stared each other down for a moment, ice and fire, but Tina broke away first, turning away and going back to the party, and Kurt left her to her own devices, no doubt muttering threats under her breath towards him, and went back upstairs.

Blaine was sitting on the end of the bed, the sheet drawn over his thighs, curling in on himself. He looked up when Kurt opened the door, his cheeks wet and shiny with tears, and Kurt immediately went to him, taking his face between his hands and kneeling at his feet, looking up into his reddened eyes with the utmost concern. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, and Blaine nodded, smiling through the tears still clinging in a slick, salty mask to his skin.

"Never been better," he promised softly, and Kurt smiled as Blaine leaned down to kiss him. His hands strayed up under the sheet, climbing up the soft skin on the insides of Blaine's thighs, and Blaine's gasp was muffled by Kurt's tongue snaking into his mouth. The bottle of champagne rolled across the floor, forgotten.

After Blaine was soundly asleep, the moonlight streaming in through the parted curtains and illuminating the innocence of his face, the slope of his shoulder where the marks of Kurt's teeth still shone red and painful, his curls dark against the white of the pillow, Kurt carefully unwound himself from the tangle of Blaine's arms around his waist and swung his legs to the ground, crossing the room to look at himself in the mirror. Blaine's marks were all over him, dark as storm clouds against his pale skin, proclaiming to the world that he was Blaine's, that he had allowed the man he loved to possess him in such a way, to leave him with badges of their love, memories of the way they had moved together, tangled in sweat-damp sheets and murmuring vows into each other's skin. He didn't look like the man he'd gotten used to seeing, his New York self, hollow-eyed and pale from sleepless nights, scars seemingly worn into his cheeks by the tears he'd cried over the life he'd lost, the people he'd had to say goodbye to. But he didn't look like his old self either, that carefree boy who looked happy and in love in every mirror, surrounded by friends and family who valued him for who he was and not some odd mask he wore to stop people from seeing the way he was folding in on himself, collapsing like a house of cards caught in a breeze.

He wasn't either of those people, but Blaine made him feel like he was somewhere in between. He made him feel like the icy façade he had worked so hard to build up over the last few months was melting, slowly, just around the edges. He made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and looking down at the mist-curtained ground, wondering whether he was ready to jump.

Climbing back into bed, wrestling the blankets from Blaine's surprisingly strong sleeping grip, Kurt leaned over to kiss his forehead, sweet and soft, and whispered, "I love you," into his hair. Blaine snuffled in his sleep, rolling towards Kurt, hair falling over his forehead and making him look absurdly young, free and careless in sleep, arms reaching out for the warmth of Kurt's body. Sighing, Kurt let himself be caught up by Blaine, ending his fall, even if it was only for tonight.

* * *

Tina swung against Kurt's side again as he turned sharply around a corner, pulling herself upright with glare a and turning to look at him suspiciously. "Where are you taking me?" she asked, her folded arms and harsh tone demanding an answer, and Kurt just stared resolutely at the road and kept driving, ignoring every shrill question.

When he pulled up outside the crumbling hotel, even the scaffolding built against its front rusting and crumbling, clinging like ivy to the old brick, he climbed out of the car and opened Tina's door for her, grabbing her hand to drag her around the back, following the metal stairs of the fire escape up and around until they reached the roof, where they could be loud and busy and still no one would see them. It was a haven among a town that seemed to relish prying into other people's business, a place that had been derelict and abandoned for so long that people just seemed to ignore it, their eyes sliding by as if it wasn't even there. "Where are we?" Tina demanded, folding her arms across her chest and staring Kurt down as he pulled his coat closer around him, shivering in the harsh winter wind blowing the dry skeletons of fallen leaves across the floor. "And why did you bring me here?"

"Just somewhere I like to come to be alone," Kurt said softly. "Somewhere where I can think and scream and yell and cry and no one will even notice me. We're invisible here, Tina, and I brought you here because I want to talk. About Blaine, and what happened at the wedding."

Lifting an eyebrow critically, Tina spat, "I know exactly what happened. It was exactly like I said it would be. You let Blaine hope, you took him upstairs and you had sex with him, and now you'll go back to New York to your boyfriend. Everything you've said to him about breaking up with that guy to be with him again is complete trash, you're just lying to him. You're just scared he'll find someone else. Someone who'll treat him  _right_."

Taking in a deep, calming breath, Kurt placed both hands on Tina's shoulders to keep her still and slowly said, "Tina, I love Blaine more than anything, and I swear I'm going to treat him right. I'll respect your feelings for him should we get back together, but I can't just pretend I don't still love him. I can't tell you that what happened between us at the wedding didn't mean anything. And I can't tell you that you have any right to tell Blaine what's best for him."

"It's not you!" Tina's scream echoed out across the grey sky, her eyes wild, her lips curling back in disdain. "You're not good enough for him, you will never be good enough! You just come and go! What do you know about love?"

"Everything!" Kurt shouted back, shoving Tina backwards, anger boiling up in his gut even as he tried to lock it down, to remain calm and cool and not sink to Tina's level of fiery fury. "I love Blaine more than anything, Tina, and I want you to recognise that! I want you to just accept that Blaine is in love with me and be happy for us."

"Let me tell you something about Blaine," Tina said, almost chattily, if it weren't for the rage in her narrowed eyes. "He is sweet and talented and wonderful and funny, and he deserves a lot better than you." When she spoke, her words gnawed their way into Kurt's mind, squirming and hot, doubt turning all his dreams to dust. "He deserves someone who isn't selfish and so obsessed with their own dreams that they forget all their old friends. He deserves someone who won't just fight with him for the spotlight until the day it wrecks their relationship. He deserves someone who'll take care of him in a way you don't know how to because the only person you ever look out for is yourself!"

"Shut up!" And he was screaming, feeling almost out of control, every outburst punctuated with another shove, knocking Tina backwards, her hair flying in the wind and her eyes blazing. "Shut up! Shut up! Shut-"

And her eyes went wide as her heels skidded back across the edge of the building, and for a moment she wavered, panic struck across her face, and he reached for her, heart pounding painfully. "Tina!" But she fell, backwards, her scream snatched away by the wind, and he was too late, seconds separating their hands, but he missed and she fell, gone, and he couldn't even hear her hit the ground. Feet pounding harshly against the metal of the fire escape, he ran, slipping and stumbling, eyes wet with tears, screaming her name over and over again, skidding to a halt where she lay broken and crumpled and reaching out, touching her, leaning over her to check her breathing, her pulse, hoping for some spark, some sign that she could still be saved.

But she was gone, and the tears were streaming down Kurt's face, stomach churning with guilt, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, hands shaking, and dialled 911. "It's my friend, she...she killed herself. She jumped off the abandoned hotel and I couldn't...she was too fast. Please..." His voice trailed away as he broke down over the broken shell of a girl who had once been one of his closest friends, combing her hair back behind her ears. She almost looked as if she could be sleeping, not a hair out of place.

When the police arrived, their voices soft and soothing as Kurt gave his statement, shivering and crying and forcing the words out, Kurt took the first opportunity he could to leave, shaking off questions of whether he was okay. He just wanted to be with Blaine, to see him and hold him and never let go of him again. He wouldn't lose anybody else.

He pulled up outside Blaine's house and turned the engine off in time for Blaine to wrench his door open and drag him out and into a tight hug, burying his face in Kurt's shoulder the way he always did when he was sad. When he moved away, his eyes were red and swollen and his cheeks wet with tears, and Kurt's stomach seemed to drop when he saw his expression, how absolutely devastated he was. "Tina's mom called me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "God, Kurt, why would she do that? Did she say anything to you?" Tears welled up in his eyes, and he wrenched his gaze away from Kurt's as he murmured, "What if it was because of me?"

"Oh God, honey, no, I'm sure it was just a combination of things that she was bottling up until it got to the point where she didn't want to deal with it all any more," Kurt reassured him, wrapping his arms around Blaine and holding him close, holding him together. "You know how deeply she's always let things affect her. It wasn't your fault, please don't feel like it was. It's like my boss always says, everybody dies for a reason. Even if that reason is because they did something bad to someone else."

Only when Blaine moved out of his arms did Kurt realise what he had said, how suspicious it sounded, and want to run away, far enough that nothing from his past would ever catch up to him. "Your boss says that?" Blaine asked, his expression doubtful, his eyes scared. "What kind of job do you do, Kurt? You're very secretive about it."

"I...Blaine, I get a lot of money and I only do office work, I swear I've never killed anybody!" And there it was, out of his mouth, buzzing in the air like an angry hornet, and the concerned, doubtful look on Blaine's face slipped away, replaced by fear and anger, duelling cold and hot across his eyes and mouth. "Please, Blaine, I didn't mean to hurt her, it was an accident, and I am so, so sorry. Please, Blaine, I  _love_  you."

But Blaine turned away, wrapping his arms around himself so Kurt could see his fingers curling over his hips, and the tears slipped down Kurt's cheeks when Blaine murmured, "I think you should leave."

"Blaine-"

"Just go!" Blaine shouted, spinning on his heel to face Kurt, his face laced red with fury, his eyes filled with tears. "Get out, I don't want to see you again! God, you come back here and make me hope, make me think you still love me, make me think we're getting back together, and then you kill the girl who has helped me to get through these horrible months! Do you even understand how hard this has been for me? Or have you been too busy murdering your best friend and shacking up with a man who is no doubt another assassin to care about me?!"

"Of course I care, I still love you! I had to do those things, people were going to kill me and maybe people I cared about, I didn't want-"

"So your life is more valuable than anyone else's?" Blaine was screaming, voice echoing across the grey winter morning, his lower lip quivering violently as the tears slid down his scarlet cheeks. "You're selfish and cruel and you don't care about them. You don't care about the lives you took! Do you even regret anything you've done? To me, to Rachel, to Tina, to your boyfriend? Do you care?!"

"Please." And that word sprawled out in the silence, swelling up against the whistling rush of the wind, but Blaine just turned away, walking up into his house and not looking back. Climbing back into his car, Kurt stared at the slight shadow of his reflection in his window, and slumped against the dashboard, crying softly.

He didn't even recognise himself anymore.

* * *

It took a week after returning from Ohio, heartbroken and desperately trying to contact Blaine, frantically calling and texting him over and over again, spending sleepless nights just hoping for a response, but finally Kurt gave up and invited Adam over. If Blaine wanted him to be with Adam and give up on him, then he would be. Love would fade over time, and even if Adam wasn't right for him, someone else would be.

Throughout dinner, Adam was staring at Kurt across the table, the candles flickering around them, and he stretched over to take Kurt's hand possessively in his, eyes steely as he asked, "Did anything happen between you and Blaine when you went home for the wedding? You've been acting a little weird, and we didn't really talk the whole time you were there."

"No, nothing happened," Kurt answered immediately, perhaps a little too quickly. "I just...God, Ad, I accidentally let slip to him what I do for a living now, and he hates me. I don't think he'll ever forgive me. Not for anything I did, especially knowing I accidentally killed his best friend."

"You've been busy," Adam said softly, and Kurt ducked his head away from his boyfriend's gaze. "I'll clean up, babe, you just relax. You made all this." Smiling softly, Kurt stood up, and quickly crossed the room, checking his hair in the mirror hanging by the door under the guise of reorganising his scarf hooks. Maybe, if Blaine really didn't want him back, it would be worth it to try and make what he had with Adam a more permanent arrangement. Hearing Adam's footsteps, he pinned a smile on his face and turning to face him, waiting to be kissed when Adam's hands slid up his arms, his eyes drifting down his face to his lips.

But then Adam grabbed Kurt's chin and jerked his head up and to the side, eyes narrowed and blazing with rage. "You filthy little liar," he hissed dangerously, and forced Kurt to turn around, hand curved along his jaw, the glass of the mirror reflecting back a small but noticeable lovebite just beneath Kurt's ear. "You did sleep with him, it's written all over your face. What does he have that I don't, huh?"

"I love him," Kurt snapped boldly, turning to face Adam, staring up into his eyes. "I love Blaine and you can't change that. You can't stop me from seeing him." His head ricocheted back against the mirror, cracking the glass, as Adam hit him, Kurt's cheek and jaw on fire as he stared at the man in front of him, breathing as heavily as a bull after the charge. "I don't care what you do, I love him," he shouted, clasping a hand against the left side of his face.

Rage faded from Adam's face, slipping away like water through cupped fingers, to be replaced by a calm expression, his face so passive it frightened Kurt far more than his initial incandescent rage. "You might love him, but you won't carry on loving a dead man," he said, and a flicker of a conniving smirk slid over his face. "You can tell him to expect me in Lima by tomorrow, and wish him all the best in the next life."

Kurt hadn't cried when Adam had confronted him and called him a number of derogatory names, nor when Adam had slapped him across the face, even though he could feel his cheek swelling and his jaw aching with every breath, not even now when Adam had sent his head crashing back and broken his mother's mirror. But at Adam's words, so concise and cold, the tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them, and he reached for Adam's hands, begging, "Please don't kill him! I'll do anything, I'll cut him off, I'll never go back to Ohio, I'll rip up his pictures and delete his number and forget everything about him, but please don't kill him! You can't!"

"Oh, I know the agency won't like the independent killing," Adam said airily, ripping his hands from Kurt's desperate grip and turning away, not looking back when Kurt slid to the floor with a thud, his trembling legs no longer able to hold up his own weight. "I'll probably get a dressing down and have a very black mark on my record. I'll have to do mountains of office work for months before I'm allowed back into the field." Turning back, he crouched down and ran the tip of one finger down Kurt's face, the smirk on his face sickening as he crooned, "But it'll be worth it for you."

Slumped on the floor, the entire left side of his face throbbing, silvery tear tracks glistening on his cheeks, Kurt frantically assembled the mismatched pieces of a wild plan. All he knew was that he had to get back to Lima, to reach Blaine, to hold him and hide him and protect him and never let him go again. "Of course it will," he murmured, moving his hand away from his jaw and curling it around the back of Adam's neck, determinedly shaking off the stomach-churning feeling as Adam's eyes flamed with lust. "I'll be worth every moment of effort, babe. Why don't I give you a little preview?"

Kurt covered Adam's smirk of satisfaction with his lips, letting Adam pull him upright and jerk him violently upwards, slamming his back against the cracked mirror. A shard of glass pierced Kurt's back, and he struggled not to tear his mouth away and yelp in agony. Adam's hands slid wildly all over his back, grabbing roughly at his ass, his tongue sliding against Kurt's own as Kurt slid his hands down Adam's back, fingers sliding into his back pocket while Adam's mouth moved to his neck. "Such a good kisser," Kurt cooed, straining to reach further down, and suppressing a crow of triumph when his fingers hooked through Adam's keyring. "Let me down for a second, babe."

Adam obliged, and Kurt brought his knee up hard into his balls, shoving the winded man to the ground with a scowl of disgust twisting his lips. "You are not going to hurt Blaine," he snapped, and Adam stared up at him, eyes half-closed and watering with pain.

"I have a contact in Ohio," he hissed. "I'll get weapons from him. It doesn't matter how fast you go there, you can't protect him." Kicking him again, Kurt dangled the keys from his hand, seeing Adam's face darken with rage.

"Maybe not," he said softly. "But I'm going to try." And he left Adam lying on the floor, locking the apartment door firmly behind him, hoping to buy himself a little more time. Running down the stairs, he vaulted into Adam's car and turned the key to start the engine, slamming his foot onto the accelerator and roaring down the street, weaving through the traffic, heading for Lima and for Blaine.

* * *

Parking the car haphazardly just beyond the school entrance, Kurt threw himself at the door to open it and ran towards the school. He'd driven through the night in silence, adrenaline warding off exhaustion, his back was in agony from the shard of glass still embedded in his skin, his clothes drenched with sweat and a stain of blood smeared like wings across his shoulder blades, but he didn't care as he skidded past the empty reception desk, checking his watch and guessing Blaine would be in rehearsal with the glee club, carefree and performing, not knowing the danger coming for him.

Slamming the door open so hard it bounced against the wall behind it, Kurt searched the room desperately for Blaine, barely noticing the expressions of shock surrounding him, the music grinding to an abrupt halt. Finally seeing Blaine, straddling a chair at the back and talking animatedly to Brittany and Marley, gesturing wildly to illustrate his point, Kurt rushed to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, voice breathless and thick with tears as he insisted, "You have to come with me, Blaine, we have to leave right now, please, you're in danger!"

"Kurt, don't be silly," Blaine snapped, his eyes sharp with loathing as he looked up at Kurt, a barely perceptible quiver of his lip flashing past Kurt's trained eyes. "We're rehearsing for Regionals, I can't just up and leave. Why are you even here?"

Opening his mouth to explain, Kurt froze when the familiar sound of a gunshot cracked the relative stillness of the school in two. Everyone started looking around wildly, and he could see the horror creeping over Mr. Schuester and Coach Beiste's faces. From somewhere in the school came a scream, the sound of running feet. Then another gunshot, and Mr. Schuester was moving, closing and locking the two doors to the choir room, hooking chairs beneath the handles, and Coach Beiste was ordering, "Find a place to hide, come on, quickly."

Through the fray of panicking students, desperately trying to keep quiet, Kurt reached out and found Blaine's hand, pulling him back from the rest of the glee club and into the opposite corner of the room, clutching him close. "I love you," he whispered, voice barely more than a breath. "I love you so much, Blaine, I'm so sorry for last weekend, please don't be mad."

"Why shouldn't I be?" Blaine hissed back, ignoring Mr. Schuester frantically shushing them across the room. "But I love you too, Kurt, more than anything." He shifted in Kurt's arms, turning his head to look at Kurt over his shoulder, frowning. "What's going on? Why did you come back, and how did you know we were in danger? Did you see the shooter?"

"They're not in danger," Kurt breathed, indicating the sobbing, murmuring collection of students clustered on the other side of the room, white-knuckled with holding each other, all attached to their phones as they were encouraged to tweet and text and let people know what was going on. "You are. It's about you, it's that guy I've been seeing, he found out we were together at the wedding, he wants to kill you. That's why I came back, I wanted you to come with me and run before he got here." Pressing his forehead against the back of Blaine's neck, he couldn't help the tears that spilled over. "But now it's too late."

He could hear Blaine breathing, the ticking of the metronome left in the centre of the room, the click of people typing on phones and the terrified, rasping sobbing of the other students. "I don't want to die," Blaine whispered, his voice so small and scared, and he seemed to shrink in Kurt's arms, like a child hiding from monsters. "I know I assumed, but...does he work for the agency too?"

"I should've known he'd be furious when he found out," Kurt whispered, wrapping his arms tighter around Blaine. "We were playing with fire fooling around with him in the picture, but I never dreamed he'd try to kill you. I'm so sorry." He burst into tears, desperately trying to muffle his sobs, and Blaine turned around, kneeling between Kurt's thighs and pressing sweet, tender kisses to his face, stroking his swollen left cheek and brushing away hot tears with his thumb.

"That bastard hit you." Blaine gently dragged his thumb over Kurt's cheek, where he was sure an ugly bruise was blooming. "Kurt, I'm so sorry. Please don't feel guilty about any of this, it's out of your hands. You were so brave to come back and try to warn us." Shaking hard, face streaked with tears, Kurt managed to give Blaine the smallest ghost of a smile, and Blaine leaned in to kiss him, delicate and familiar.

Terror that this could be the last time he ever shared a kiss with Blaine overwhelmed Kurt, and he kissed back frenziedly, gripping Blaine's head hard and digging his fingers into the back of his neck, and Blaine's arm wrapped around his waist and tugged him closer, tongues sliding around and over and together. Only then did Kurt hear the discreet cough from the other side of the room and pull away to see Mr. Schuester giving them a reproving look. "I'm pleased you two have reconciled, but there are bigger things than making out to worry about right now," he scolded sharply and Blaine slid away from Kurt, leaning back against him and pulling both of Kurt's hands around his waist to rest on his stomach, sliding his fingers between Kurt's.

Hearing footsteps again, Kurt heard the gasp around the room, someone's sobs increasing at the aggressive rattling of the door handle. For a moment, he couldn't breathe, imagining Adam storming through the door, pointing his gun directly at Blaine and shooting before anyone had a chance to stop him. But nothing happened, and they could breathe easy.

Kitty's screams reached ear-piercing pitch as a gunshot broke the silence and the door swung open, a smoking hole where the lock had been. Adam stood in the doorway, a gun in his hand, and Kurt clutched Blaine protectively, his eyes dry now, mouth set in a hard, angry line. "Who's Blaine Anderson?" Adam asked, voice rough and demanding. When no one answered, he shot again, putting a bullet in the floor and drawing near-hysterical sobs from several of the people around the room. "Who is he?!"

"I'm Blaine Anderson." Blaine still clung to Kurt's hand as he stood up, and Kurt went with him, hovering just behind him like a shadow, resolutely refusing to let him go. "I don't want anyone to get hurt," Blaine said, eyes drifting to the gun pointing at him, Adam's hands absolutely still as he aimed. "Please put that thing away. I didn't do anything wrong."

"No, you didn't," Adam conceded. And the gun, miraculously, moved away from Blaine. Kurt almost went limp with relief, then stiffened when the gun pointed at him, and Adam smirked darkly. "But he did."

Moving towards Kurt, Adam continued, "The agency isn't happy with you, Kurt. Running out on a crucial assignment to come home for a wedding, the independent killing and the way your little boy toy fucked all their secrets out of you." Kurt saw Blaine gritting his teeth, and squeezed his hand in warning, stopping him from risking it all. "I was assigned to kill you. At first I thought it would be hard, but when I found out you cheated on me with him it was easy. I would've killed you then, with one of your own knives, and left you to be found by some delivery boy days later." His smirk was almost satanic as he cocked his head towards Blaine. "But then I thought what better way to get back at the boy who took my boyfriend than to kill you right in front of him?" Turning back to Kurt, he aimed neatly between his eyes and asked, "Any last words?"

Looking around the room, seeing everyone surrounding him frozen with shock and abject terror, Kurt turned to Blaine. "Please look after my dad," he whispered, and Blaine nodded, eyes shining with tears. "Take care of yourself." Lowering his voice, he breathed, "It was an accident, honestly, but I am so sorry that it's because of me that you lost Tina. I got angry and I didn't control myself and you lost someone so important because of that. I am so sorry, Blaine."

"It doesn't matter," Blaine insisted, squeezing Kurt's hands. "None of it does, not when I'm going to lose you and I only just got you back. The day I met you was the best day of my life." Tears carved shining paths down Blaine's ashen cheeks, and Kurt kissed them away, soft brushes of his lips against familiar skin.

"Mine too," he promised, and gave Blaine a slight smile. "I love you, Blaine. I've always loved you. Don't forget me." Blaine's answer, the fervent shaking of his head, died on his lips when Kurt kissed him, embracing him for the last time, their mouths parting as the kiss turned into a hug, breathing each other in.

"How very touching," Adam observed, tone dripping with sarcasm. "Come on, Kurt, I haven't got all day." Kissing Blaine's forehead, keeping himself from breaking down, Kurt stepped away from him and stood before Adam, waiting to die.

The crack of the shot was drowned by a scream as Blaine threw himself in front of Kurt and hit the ground. It took a moment for Kurt to realise he was the one screaming, for the world to start again after that moment suspended itself in time, Blaine crashing to the floor with blood staining his shirt. "Get him!" came a shout, and every person in the room who was able to jumped on Adam. Kurt didn't see them wrestling him to the ground, twisting his arms up his back so he yelled with pain, seizing the gun and holding it gingerly, because he collapsed to his knees next to Blaine, tears pouring down his cheeks.

"Blaine, you fucking idiot!" he snapped, scrabbling across the smooth floor for Blaine's hand, pushing errant strands of hair back from his forehead. "Don't jump in front of bullets for me! One tainted slushie almost gave me a heart attack, what do you think this is going to do to me?"

As he ripped Blaine's shirt open to check the wound, buttons rattling over the floor, Blaine blinked up at him and smiled sleepily. "I seem to remember you doing the same thing in happier circumstances," he observed suggestively, and Kurt started sobbing uncontrollably, fisting the ragged material in his hands and pressing kisses against Blaine's chest. "Kurt, it's okay, calm down," Blaine murmured, laying a hand over Kurt's head. "I'm sure it's not too bad, okay, shush."

"Of course it's bad, you got  _shot_!" Kurt screamed, smacking Blaine in the chest. "Stop downplaying it, shut up, I hate you, you could die and it's all my fault!" Growing more hysterical by the second, barely able to breathe between gut-wrenching sobs, it took him a moment to register the hand on his shoulder, Coach Beiste gently pulling him back.

She knelt down to examine Blaine's wound while Kurt stood by, trembling violently from head to toe, unable to stop his tears but managing to calm his sobs a little, dragging in great shuddering breaths. "It could be a lot worse," she finally said. "The bullet didn't get lodged in your shoulder and it missed any arteries. It's taken a chunk of flesh out of the top, you'll need stitches." Looking up at Kurt, she wiped her blood-stained hands on Blaine's ruined shirt and gently assured him, "We've called the police and an ambulance. You'll have to go to hospital too, you're in shock."

"Of course I'm in shock, my boyfriend got shot!" Kurt shouted. Seeing Adam out of the corner of his eye, with someone's scarf knotted around his wrists and Sam on top of him, holding his head to the floor and keeping him immobilised, Kurt saw red. In a second he was across the room, kicking every inch of Adam he could reach, until Mr. Schuester grabbed him around the waist, clamping a hand over his mouth to silence his wild screams.

"That is  _enough_ , Kurt!" he shouted, his bellow making the entire room fall silent. Kurt struggled in his grip for a second before he looked over at Blaine lying on the floor, Coach Beiste patiently dabbing at his wound with someone's sweater, and all the fight went out of him.

Blaine was the first to break the silence, his eyes visibly brighter as he reached a hand up for Kurt and asked, "Am I really your boyfriend again?" When Kurt nodded, Blaine smiled at him. "I love you so much," he said, and passed out.

Letting out a sob, Kurt dropped to his knees beside Blaine's unconscious form, tucking errant strands of hair behind his ears and smoothing the creases of his jeans down, sliding his fingers between Blaine's, his tears falling onto Blaine's skin, sliding down his face and clinging to his shaven jaw. "I love you," he whispered, stroking his fingers in small spirals over Blaine's chest. "I'm so sorry."

Hearing the wailing of sirens outside, Coach Beiste beckoned to Ryder and Jake and the three of them lifted Adam to his feet, binding his ankles with Sugar's scarf and dragging him out to meet the police. Lying down next to Blaine, head pillowed on the bicep of his uninjured arm, Kurt let out a long sigh and slung his arm over Blaine's chest, watching it rise and fall with his breathing. It was a moment before he felt the touch against his back, Sam crouching down opposite him with his face a mask of reassurance. "You have to let go now," he said softly. "They need to take Blaine to the hospital to operate. If they don't, he'll lose too much blood."

Reluctantly, Kurt let go, tearing himself away from Blaine like a limpet from a rock, kissing his shoulder softly. But when Sam and Mr. Schuester bent to lift Blaine up, propping him in their arms like he was a rag doll, Kurt shouted, "No! I'll carry him. Don't touch him."

Clutching Blaine's unconscious form to his chest, determinedly refusing to stagger beneath his weight, Kurt blinked against the harsh brightness of the sunlight outside, searching the parking lot frantically for the whirling lights of an ambulance. Pushing through a crowd of panicky students, all watching in horrified fascination as two police officers wrestled Adam into the back of their car, Kurt found his burden swept from his arms by two paramedics. Tearful and weak with relief that Blaine would get the help he needed, he wouldn't die, Kurt watched them strap Blaine to a stretcher and lift him into the ambulance.

The paramedics seemed about to drive off, and Kurt grabbed the kinder-looking one by the shoulder, trying not to burst into further tears as he begged, "Please let me come, he's my boyfriend, you have to let me come with him. He'd want me to be there. I saw him get shot, you can't leave me!"

"You must be in terrible shock," the paramedic observed gently, removing Kurt's hand from her shoulder and opening one of the doors. "Come with us, we'll see if the hospital needs to give you any emergency treatment." She handed Kurt a bottle of water, and he took a few gulps before a hand gently urged him to get into the vehicle.

Climbing into the back of the ambulance, Kurt found an orange blanket being wrapped around his shaking shoulders, lowering himself into the seat and reaching for Blaine's hand, squeezing tight. "We're going to be okay," he promised. "You're going to come to New York with me, and everything will be wonderful. We'll get a cat, just like you wanted. Nothing will pull us apart ever again. I won't lose you." The world swam before him and he gripped Blaine's hand harder. "I love you." And the world went black.

* * *

Kurt awoke in darkness, unable to move. Terrified by the thought of what drugs the hospital might've given him, whether he might have reacted badly to anything dripped into his veins to try and revive him, he blinked furiously against the darkness, grinding his teeth in annoyance. He felt something soft pushing against his tongue, stretching his mouth and suddenly the room was blinding white. Blaine was bound with harsh ropes to a chair directly opposite Kurt, his head lolling onto his bare chest and his shoulder smeared with blood. Screaming his name past the rag gagging him, Kurt's mouth snapped shut when he was slapped viciously across the face. Then, unbelievably, wonderfully, someone untied the knot pressing at the back of his head and he could speak, pleading, "Let him go, he didn't do anything, if he doesn't get medical attention he'll die, please don't keep him here."

"We're not stupid, we know you'll tear this place apart if we just let him die," came a silken, vaguely familiar voice. "If you bothered to look past the blood, you'd see we patched him up. Not much, but it'll hold until he gets to a hospital. Assuming, of course, you co-operate."

And the paramedics both came into the light, their uniforms gone, their smiles easy and cruel as they stood either side of Blaine. "Eleanor sent us to take care of you, Kurt, believing Adam would mess up because he has feelings for you," the woman said, rolling her eyes. "But she didn't say we had to kill you. As long as you agree to certain things, you can walk out of here alive and with your boyfriend."

"What do you want from me?" Kurt asked immediately. All he wanted was to leave with his life and with Blaine, get him to the doctors he needed and make sure they would be okay, that they could pull through this and come out stronger on the other side. "Anything. I'll do anything."

"After all the trouble you've caused and all the people who know you, Eleanor has decided it would be too much trouble to kill you," the man said silkily. "So, she is willing to reach an agreement with you. She will destroy all the records she has on you and have someone else take your position in the team if you promise that you'll never talk about the agency again. You can't come back looking for a job, you can't kill anyone ever again and if we hear so much as a hint about you speaking of it, you won't be able to hide from us. Is that clear?" Kurt nodded, panic churning in his gut as he glanced across at Blaine, blood trickling down his chest. "Do you agree to these terms?"

"Absolutely." And with that, Kurt felt free. The ropes fell away from his wrists, and the two released Blaine as well, his waking groans like music to Kurt's ears as he slid an arm around him, supporting him outside, immediately stripping off his sweater and pulling it over Blaine to keep him warm. Gently brushing his hair behind his ears, Kurt pressed a soft kiss to Blaine's forehead and whispered, "This is you and me now, right? The two of us, together again?"

"Of course," Blaine said weakly, and squeezed Kurt's hand in his, even as Kurt scrambled for his phone to call a real ambulance for them. "I love you, Kurt. I don't want to be without you any more." And when he wrapped his uninjured arm around Kurt's hips and pulled him in to kiss him, a kaleidoscope of emotions and so many unsaid words pouring out between their lips and the soft sounds of their breathing, it felt like all they really needed was each other.

* * *

Of course, it wasn't easy. They needed more than love to get them through Blaine's recovery, through Adam's trial, through convincing Blaine's parents that it was safe for Blaine to move in with Kurt after he graduated, that no one would bother them. Kurt auditioned for NYADA once more at the same time as Blaine, and hugged him so hard that he winced when their twin acceptance letters came.

But, God, it wasn't easy. It was hard and full of anger and misery and resentment. The jagged scar on Blaine's shoulder served as a constant reminder of the darkness that had threatened to engulf Kurt's life, the darkness that still curled malevolently somewhere within him. And he vowed never to use that darkness again, to dedicate the rest of his life to making other people's lives lighter.

He would wake up screaming when the moonlight was streaming across the bed, eyes flashing with visions of a floor stained with blood, of Rachel's broken heart laid out in her eyes, of Tina's crumpled body, of Blaine falling to the ground having taken a bullet for him. Their names would fall from his lips in harsh, heavy sobs, tears rolling down his cheeks, his breathing fast and scared, and every shadow would seem to be someone coming to find him.

But then Blaine would be next to him, turning on the light and melting the shadows away, holding him and loving him and making it seem, if only for a moment, that there was a light to be found at the end of the tunnel.

A light that began with, "It doesn't matter what we've been through, loving you has been a constant for so many years that I wouldn't know how to live without being in love with you," and ended with a soft-spoken, teary-eyed, "Yes."


End file.
